In the Forests of the Night
by mkaz
Summary: While Sylar battles his inner demons, Claire returns to her hometown of Odessa...and the one she left behind.
1. Chapter 1

_Aquafina._

That's what Claire was reading over and over again as she lay there. That one word, printed on the bottle of water she had placed next to the bed. She hadn't slept in days, which was how long she'd been in that hotel room. She was now in Oklahoma, trying to think of where she wanted to go next.

She had called her father.

She heard his customary, business-like greeting when he picked up the phone, but she shut her eyes and hung up. She didn't know what to say to him. He'd let her go try to reform a serial killer, who had now left her and was probably back to his old ways. Was her father happy? She'd like to think so. She wanted to believe that with her and her complicated existence out of his life, he and her mother and brother had moved on to the serene, tolerable lives they deserved.

But Claire longed for home. She wanted something familiar to hold to her, even if it was just for a little while. She smiled now when she remembered that Zach had called it "sentimental rewinding."

Then she sat up in bed, and decided what to do. Throwing on jeans and a t shirt, she went down to the lobby and told them she was checking out early. Then she got into her car and headed south.

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He was standing on the roof of a generic office building, looking down at the cars and people passing by. He was thinking of how many of them might have incredible abilities, as yet undiscovered, or repressed and denied.

Sylar still thought there were far too many mediocre people in the world. Even so, they were…people to him now, people unto themselves, not just a means to an end. Claire had made him think that way.

And in that moment, in his own self-perception of mediocrity, he wished with everything he had that he could remove that mind-set.

He was staring out into the night sky, a blue black with just a few whisps of white cloud. Then a bright flash of light hit the sky and he squinted in reaction. Lightning. Sylar knew he'd have to get off of the roof soon. He reconsidered that after he realized that the bursts of electricity were not stretching across the sky, but were rather originating from a particular place in the city. Sylar drew closer to the edge of the ledge, and stared. With his advanced vision he pinpointed the exact neighborhood where the lightning was coming from. Intrigued, he went off in pursuit of the thing—or, most likely, the person—who was responsible.

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Claire could feel her heart pounding as the highway sign for Odessa came into view. It really hadn't been that long since she'd been there, but it almost felt like she was returning to her girlhood home as an adult. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and realized that while she hadn't aged, she was definitely not the happy, pretty, popular teenage girl she'd been.

She was tired, but she didn't want to check into a hotel just yet. There was something she had to see first.

They still hadn't built a new house where her old one had stood. She had thought about it, and she was sure it would have hurt her the most if there was a brand new house and a new family living there. But seeing the withered, grey earth, the glass, wood and metal shards that had once been her home, still smelling the faint scent of fire and destruction—it was probably one of the saddest things she'd ever seen. She took a deep breath and drove on.

And then she was there. The place that she once considered her entire world, the place where she first met Peter…and Sylar. It was where she saw her friend die, where she found her best friend. She parked the car to the side of the road and looked over at the field, where the track team was practicing. The yellow buses were still lined up; she had always wondered why some of them lingered after school was done for the day. She sat in the car, staring out into space, until the sounds of laughter broke her reverie. A couple of girls (freshman year, Claire estimated by their appearance) walked by on the sidewalk, holding their schoolbooks and complaining about their lives. What they didn't realize is that they were actually enjoying their best years. Claire mentally slapped herself for thinking that way. She was eighteen, not eighty. Why should she feel so old when she wasn't?

Just to prove that she wasn't old, she got out of her car and decided to walk into the school. Naturally she'd be mistaken for a student by anyone who happened to still be in there. And she was glad to know that anyone who might have known her probably had left for the day.

The halls were long and empty. Claire walked through them, slowly, as if moving in a dream. She stopped only to look at the shrine they had set up as a memorial to Jackie. Claire closed her eyes and remembered that night, the night when a man shrouded in darkness stalked her and Jackie. The man caught Jackie by the throat and made a neat cut across her head. When Claire tried to stop him, she was thrown against the metal lockers and mangled badly.

She stopped herself from thinking about it and backed away from the display. There was nothing for her here; she didn't know why she had come back. Then again, she wasn't sure there was anything for her anywhere, but she was wasting her time.

She sighed and began to walk out of the school. She was nearly at the exit when she heard a familiar voice call behind her. "Claire?"

She stopped and slowly turned around, then gasped in recognition. "Zach?"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He had approximated where the lightning had come from, only to find that the lightning was gone, now replaced with the rumbling and shuddering that comes with an earthquake. Not wanting to feel the ground move under his feet, Sylar used his telekinesis to hover above it. Traveling in the shadows, he finally came to an alleyway where the tremors seemed to be their strongest.

There was someone standing there, their back to him, arms outstretched. Sylar couldn't determine the sex of the person, but he knew they were small-framed. He drew closer, as close as he could without tipping off the person of his presence.

But the person now shifted from creating earthquakes to creating mini-tornados. The sudden force of wind knocked Sylar out of his telekinetic hover and brought him to the ground with a thud.

The person turned around and Sylar gasped. It was Claire!

No, it wasn't, he quickly realized. The girl just resembled her. About the same height and similar facial features, but hair a darker shade of blonde and eyes that were brown instead of blue. Those brown eyes widened in fear, and she backed away from him, further into the darkness of the alley.

"It's all right," he called out. "You didn't scare me. I'm like you."

There was a long silence; so long, in fact, that Sylar wondered if the girl had somehow been able to escape without his knowing. But then he heard a soft voice say, "No one is like me."

"Well, no, my powers are different from yours," Sylar responded, walking further into the alley. "But I understand what it's like to be…special," Sylar thought about it, and added, "and I can help you."

The girl emerged from the darkness tentatively. "You can't help me. I destroy things with my power."

Sylar wet his lips. "You just need to control it. I can show you." He dared to walk closer. He had to get the girl to trust him, allow him to get nearer.

She held up her hand, electricity crackling from her fingertips. The alleyway was now lit up from the light. "Stand back," she demanded.

Sylar held up his hands and backed away. He was pretty sure he could subdue her if he wanted, but he wasn't going to take that chance. "I'm no threat to you," he said, hoping it sounded sincere. "What's your name?"

The girl stared at him for a while. Then she finally replied, "Gretchen."

"Gretchen," Sylar repeated with a smile. "I'm Gabriel."

He now saw that the electricity from her hands was beginning to dissipate, and they were once again in the shadows of the night.

"So…you have the power to create and control natural phenomena, like earthquakes and lightning," Sylar said.

"Create, yes," the girl whispered. "Control? Not as much."

"Well, Gretchen," Sylar replied, his trademark smirk hidden in the darkness, "I can do something about that." He stepped toward her.

Gretchen screamed and a bolt of lightning hit Sylar's chest. He groaned and collapsed to the ground, smoke pouring off of him. She braced herself against the brick wall, then, gathering her courage, ran away as fast as she could, leaving her victim in the shadows of the alley.

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"Claire!" Zach repeated, running to her. The next thing she knew, she was enveloped in a hug, and she couldn't help but laugh at the joy she now felt.

"Where the hell have you been?" Zach said softly in her ear, then released her.

Claire wiped her eyes as nonchalantly as she could. She sighed, looking at him. "Everywhere," was the only answer she could manage.

Zach now shifted from looking elated to looking angry. "You just took up and left nearly a year ago now, no explanation, no goodbye, nothing! So much for you giving a shit," he said with real vitriol in his voice.

Claire swallowed. "I know. I'm really sorry. But a lot of things happened, and my dad thought it was for the best that we not tell anyone that we were leaving."

Zach's expression changed from genuine hurt and anger to quiet resentment. "So, you and your family are back then?" he asked, beginning to walk out of the school.

"No, just me," Claire replied, now following him. "That's part of why I needed to leave. I…I live a completely different life than I did before."

"Yeah, sure whatever," Zach said with a hint of bitterness. "Well, it was nice of you to come by and say hi."

Claire's eyes widened. "I wasn't just coming by! I wanted to see my home."

"Then how long are you in town?"

She shrugged. "I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Huh," Zach snorted. "Well, I have to walk home; my mom needed the car, and she couldn't pick me up from school so I've been working on a video project. If you want to walk home with me….I guess that's cool."

Claire smiled. "That won't be necessary."

"Damn! That's a smokin' car!" Zach exclaimed when he saw the blue and silver mustang.

"Why thank you," Claire gushed, and started the engine.

"So how did you get a car this hot?" Zach asked when they were nearing his house.

Claire froze inside. She had been dreading explaining this to Zach, because it would mean having to explain Sylar. She had to decide quickly. She would tell him as much as she could without bringing her ex-partner into the story.

She took a deep breath. "After I left Odessa, my family and I moved to Washington state. It was then that I was—'recruited' is the word I guess—by a man named Mr. Nakamura."

"For what?"

"He asked me to travel, helping others with abilities like me. He gave me this car to use, and money to live on."

"And—and you just left your home? Your family?"

Claire gripped the steering wheel. "It wasn't easy for me. I did it so that they could have normal, quiet lives. That wasn't going to happen with me there."

Zach sighed. "And you couldn't have told me all this? I thought I was your friend!"

"You _are_ my friend!" Claire cried. "I just…well, I didn't want to ruin your life."

They had now pulled up to Zach's house and were about to walk in. Zach walked up to Claire and laid his hand on her arm. She looked down on his hand, then at him.

"You could never ruin my life, Claire," Zach said gently. "It really wasn't anything…until you came along." With that, he let go of her arm and walked into the house. Claire felt herself blush and followed.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the desert. The air was hot and swirling about him, the sky blue and flaming. Squinting at the sun, he put his hand to his head to shield himself and began to walk. As he walked, he tried to remember exactly how he had gotten there. His mind was a blur, and being in this place didn't help. It was almost as if everything that was right and important and rational meant nothing here.

He had walked for what seemed to be a long time when he noticed people standing in the distance. He narrowed his eyes and focused on them. Were they real, or a mirage? Did it matter?

As he drew closer, he thought he recognized some of them. He didn't know how he would know them, but their faces were familiar. And they seemed to know him too. They were all staring at him with a mixture of fury, fear, and pain.

There was a young man, with dirty blonde hair. A slim young woman with light brown hair and doe eyes. A heavy set woman in work clothes. A man in his late thirties with glasses and a meek look. A man with a dark menacing look on his face and shoulder length brown hair. A lean framed man with dark hair and a moustache.

He felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know what to say to these people. He was now within speaking distance of them. They hadn't changed their stances, or the looks on their faces. They were so stoic he wondered if they could even see him.

But they could. One of the men, the one with long brown hair, walked toward him and, without warning, pushed him hard into the sand.

He fell hard against the sand, groaning. Why had that man done that?

The pretty young woman was at his side, looking deeply into his face. "He doesn't remember us," she told her companions.

"I'll make him remember," the man who had pushed him said. He squatted next to him. "Surely the great Sylar will remember the people he killed?"

"He went through so much trouble to find us and take what wasn't his," the heavyset woman piped up. "How could he forget?"

Finally he found his voice. "I don't—I don't understand. Who are you? Who am I?"

With that, the heavyset woman kicked him in the stomach. He cried and doubled up in the fetal position. The doe-eyed girl gently stroked his forehead.

"Don't you remember, Sylar? You sliced open my head in the diner I worked in. I never did anything to you; I didn't even know you. But my life meant so little to you that you had no problems with taking it away from me."

He shuddered. "Charlie," he whispered. "Your name is Charlie."

Then the man who had first pushed him grabbed him by the neck and brought him to his feet. "Do you remember my name, asshole?" he demanded.

He stared into the fiery eyes of the other man. "No."

The man let him go and laughed. "He doesn't remember! Well, maybe we should show him."

The man stretched his hand over the open wasteland of the desert. And then he was in a city, one that seemed familiar. He was just standing in the middle of the road. There was an armored truck riding towards him, and for some reason, he had the urge to stretch out his hand, and as soon as he did the truck tipped over and screeched toward him. He moved his hand again and the back door of the truck opened. And there was the man who had pushed him, hanging upside down in his seat, crying in pain and struggling to get out.

"Ugh! Now do you remember, asshole? This is the part where you cut my head open and take my power!" the man cried out.

He backed away in horror. Had he really done this? He couldn't believe it. But it was so familiar to him.

He closed his eyes tightly and turned away. "Stop it. Make it go away."

"Sylar," a man's voice began. He opened his eyes to find himself back in the desert and the dark, lean man standing next to him. "When you killed me, I knew you were coming. I was expecting you. I could paint the future, and I knew I was going to die."

They kept calling him "Sylar." Was that his name? Why couldn't he remember?

The blond haired man now stood next to him. "You are a master of disguise. You pretended to be Mohinder Suresh to gain my trust. Then you killed me and pretended to be me for a while. You took a part of all of us. You are us, and we are you."

"No," he whimpered. "I couldn't do something like that." He slowly got to his feet, standing inside of a circle made up of them. They were looking at him with hungry looks like their eyes, like they planned to eat him.

"You liked devouring our souls and minds," the man with glasses said. "We couldn't escape you. And now, you can't escape us."

They began to close in on him.

"No!" he screamed. "No! Get away from me!" He tried to escape them, but there were just too many.

"Please! Have mercy!" he cried.

"The same mercy you showed us?" Charlie asked him.

They tore at his flesh with their teeth and nails. He bellowed in agony as they tore his arm from this socket, ripped his leg at the knee. He fell to the ground and they began to cut him open, pulling out his entrails. Through it all, their faces were painted with expressions with calm, quiet pain. It was as if they couldn't hear his cries.

He couldn't believe he was still alive, but somehow he was. And just when he thought there would be nothing left of him for them to tear at, another figure appeared, cloaked in darkness.

The person held out their finger, and with that, all the people terrorizing him flew to the far reaches of the desert. Panting, his head swimming from it all, he finally looked down at himself and saw that he was whole. Then he looked up at the person who had saved him.

The person stood above him, still in the shadows. Then he extended his hand and helped him up.

Once he was at eye level with his rescuer, he gasped when he saw who it was. It was—it was—himself!

His reflection smirked at him. "Hello, Gabriel. Remember me?"


	2. Chapter 2

The doors of the E.R. burst open as the doctors on-call prepared to receive their latest patient: a caucasian male, somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties, found unconscious in an alley and called in by a homeless man who frequented the area.

They'd done all they could for him, but it still didn't seem like enough: he appeared to have been struck by lightning, and was now in a coma. He was stable, but unresponsive. And with no identification on him, there was no one to contact. All they could do was monitor him. And if he didn't wake up…well…the best thing he could do is wake up.

The night nurse who checked on him couldn't help but notice the intensity of his features, even with him being in a coma. She smiled when she thought that he looked like he had a whole universe inside him. He was…handsome, in a dark, devilish sort of way. She checked his IV and left his room.

She went to the front desk and leaned on it, grinning. The nurse stationed there saw her and laughed.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, just the man in 703, Susan."

Susan cocked an eyebrow. "He's in a coma, Patty. What's so funny about that?"

Patty rolled her eyes. "I know his condition is serious. It's just…he's kinda cute, that's all." She blushed and rubbed her face against her shoulder.

Susan shook her head. "You're crazy. Why didn't you let me fix you up with my cousin?"

"Oh, it's not that. He's got this, I don't know, dark and mysterious look to him. It's…attractive."

"Patty, he's a John Doe. He was found on the streets. We know nothing about him."

"Well, that's what makes him so attractive," Patty retorted, turning around and leaning her back against the desk. "Maybe he's rich and powerful. Maybe he's a spy!"

Susan slid her glasses down her nose in her older lady, no-nonsense way. "Or maybe he's happily married and his wife is killing herself with worry."

"Oh, he's not the marrying kind. I'm sure of it."

"Well, maybe not. But you never know. He might have someone out there, waiting for him. Someone who loves him."

Patty shook her head. "He's gorgeous. But he's not the type to fall in love with anyone."

"You're sure of that too, honey?"

"Sure as my life."

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Zach couldn't help but stare at his date while she picked only the crispy fries from her plate. Then he wondered if he should re-think his classification of her as his "date." She was Claire. She'd once told him that he was her best friend, and since she was the closest one he had, then that must make her his best friend too. Then again, he was a guy, she was a girl, they were at a restaurant together, just the two of them. Anyone taking a casual look at them would assume they were on a date.

He was still mad at her for leaving, but he was beginning to feel more sympathy for her than anger. He looked at her eyes and he could see world-weariness. She was still young, and beautiful, but she wasn't happy, or at peace. And while Zach didn't consider himself the most intelligent, or sophisticated guy in the world, he knew that Claire was too young to carry that weight on her shoulders. He wanted to take her away from it all, to make her the happy high school girl she had once been.

He must have looked spaced out, because Claire tilted her head and smiled. "Earth to Zach. Are you picking up on my frequency?"

Zach blinked, then smiled back. "Sorry about that. I was just thinking…" he trailed off. He was embarrassed to tell her what had been on his mind.

"You were thinking?"

"Well, if you're going to be staying for a while, you're going to need a place to stay."

Claire shrugged. "I have some money left. I'll get a hotel room."

"Actually, I had a better idea."

Zach's aunt had a room in her basement that was going unused, and she herself had a job which required her to do extensive traveling; therefore, she was rarely at home. In exchange for watching the house and doing some cleaning, Zach's aunt would allow Claire to stay for free.

When he explained this to Claire, she whole-heartedly agreed and they drove over to Zach's aunt's house after they finished their dinner.

"Claire, this is my Aunt Jeanne. Aunt Jeanne, this is my friend Claire," Zach introduced them to one another.

"Nice to meet you, Claire. You can just call me Jeanne." Zach's aunt was the typical professional "working woman": beautiful, well-preserved, trimly dressed.

Claire shook her hand and smiled. "Thanks for allowing me to stay."

"Well, I hope you won't mind being alone for a good part of the time. I'm usually on the road for my job."

"Well, so was I, until now," Claire said with a sad smile.

Zach could see his aunt was about to ask about Claire's travels, so he cut in quickly. "Claire and I are going to get her stuff and get her settled in. We'll be back in a few hours." He ushered Claire out of the house.

"Thanks," Claire told him once they were in the car and on the way to the mall.

"No problem," Zach replied. "I figured you didn't want to talk about what happened while you were traveling." Then, feeling a little petty, he added, "seeing as how you haven't really told _me_ anything."

Claire looked away from the road and shot him an indignant look. "What do you want to know?"

Zach hadn't expected her to be so direct. "Well…I guess I want to know what made you leave Odessa in the first place."

Staring straight ahead, hoping no emotions showed on her face, Claire couldn't help but feel relief. The beginning of her story was simple enough; well, relatively. It didn't involve explaining Sylar.

"Two of the men that were kidnapped and studied by my dad's company held my family hostage. One of them was…radioactive. He…blew up, sort of. That's how my house was destroyed."

"Whoa," Zach uttered. "They told us that the fire was an accident, and that your family was relocated."

"My dad sent me with a man named Caleb, to keep me safe. I ran away from him, trying to find Peter Petrelli, the guy who saved me from—who saved me that night."

"Who?"

Claire sighed. She'd forgotten that Zach's memory had been wiped, and he'd forgotten everything that happened up to homecoming. She found she was somewhat saved by the fact that they had pulled up to the store. Quickly she walked inside and threw herself into buying what she needed.

Zach walked after her. He didn't want to press her, but he knew that there was practically a whole life's worth of conflict inside of her. He stood behind her as she grabbed toiletries and began shoving them into the basket she'd picked up.

"Claire," he began gently. "Who's Peter Petrelli?"

Claire turned and faced him. "He's my uncle. He saved my life the night of homecoming."

"So…you did find the rest of your family."

She sighed, and proceeded to walk to another aisle, confident that Zach would follow right after her. "My father was Nathan Petrelli."

Zach's eyes widened. "You mean that New York senator who disappeared the night of his election?"

Claire nodded. "He's dead. He died saving the city from Peter."

Zach was puzzled. "But if Peter saved you, why would he want to destroy a city?"

Claire opened her mouth to explain, but then stopped. It was all too much, just far too much. This wasn't something that could easily explained or understood. It wearied her just to try.

"Zach, please don't think I'm insulting your intelligence, but it's really too much to talk about. And quite honestly, I'd rather forget all of it. I can't change what's happened."

Zach groaned. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's not an issue of trust!" Claire exclaimed. "You were the first person I ever trusted, even before my father; you know that! But I need you to trust me again. I came here to start fresh; please don't make me go through all that mess again!"

Zach looked at her for what seemed a long while. He felt slighted that she wouldn't talk to him, but then again, he'd just gotten her back and he didn't want to scare her away.

After she'd gotten everything she needed, Claire paid for her items and she and Zach made their way through the parking lot. They were stopped in their tracks when they heard the tail end of a rather unpleasant conversation.

"Joe, baby, I'm sorry! Please don't get angry at me!"

"What the fuck were you thinking—stupid bitch! Calling those social services people on me!"

"Joe, you made like you were going to hit Ricky, and you said you'd never hurt him!"

Claire could hear the tears in the young woman's voice as the tall, muscular man towered over her. He looked like he was about to hit her, and she was cowering against her car.

"Claire. You should do something," Zach whispered.

But Claire calmly opened the trunk of her car and began putting the bags into it.

Zach was perplexed. "Claire, did you hear what I said? That guy's terrorizing that woman! You can stop him!"

Claire looked at him, unconvinced. "What am I going to do? Take a punch for her? That's their personal relationship; I'm not getting myself involved."

Zach couldn't believe what he was hearing. Claire had always talked about using her powers to help others. Now there was a woman who needed protection, and Claire was standing by and doing nothing.

Claire gave him a look of unconcern. "Unless you want to go play domestic counselor, you'd better get in the car. I'm ready to go."

Zach glared, but he got into the mustang and they drove back to his aunt's house. Finally, when they were parked in the driveway, he worked up the courage to talk to her. He took hold of her arm to keep her from going in.

"What's happened to you?" he asked. "You're not the Claire I remember."

Much to his surprise, Claire didn't argue with him. Instead, she nodded her head in agreement. "I've learned that the world is a horrible place, and I'm not going to change it just because my skin doesn't scar and my bones set themselves. There's no 'greater good.' There's no 'true calling' for me. It's just me trying to justify the reason why I was born a freak—no, no, let me finish. I'm tired, Zach. I'm so sick and tired of all these secrets and lies and conspiracies. I'm tired of the world. It's all the same, it always has been."

Zach stared at her in a mixture of pity and fear. He thought her life was complicated when she was just testing her limits. Now...he was almost glad she didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure if he'd want to hear it.

Then she sighed. "Come on, now. Help me get these bags into the house. I've got to get my room set up."

He swallowed and followed her lead. He hoped that she would stay. He promised himself he would do everything he could to keep her there.

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He was Gabriel.

At least, that's what the man with his face called him. He was dumbfounded. All he could do is stare.

His double laughed. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

He shook his head dumbly.

His double stepped back, as if to take him all in. "Well. That's good. Now we get to start all over again, make it right this time." Then he turned around and looked about the desert. "The first thing we need to do is get rid of this depressing motif. Honestly, Gabriel. You have no imagination."

He waved his hand, and the desert began to change. Trees sprouted up from the otherwise barren soil. The temperature got cooler and more comfortable. The sound of furious winds lashing through the air were replaced by the sounds of birds and insects. They were now in a forest.

His double smiled in satisfaction. "Much better."

Gabriel worked up the courage to ask his double a question. "Who are you?"

The man's smile turned into a condescending smirk. "I am you. The better part of you. I am what you call Sylar."

"And—and those…people? Back…there?"

Sylar sighed. "It's better if you don't think of them as people, Gabriel. They simply were a means of acquiring what belonged to you."

Gabriel rubbed his temples. "They said that I killed them."

Sylar laughed. "Well, in a way, I guess you did. I always liked to think of it as delivering justice; you know, rewarding the worthy and punishing those who aren't."

Gabriel was puzzled. "So…those people were criminals? I was some sort of…law enforcement officer?"

His doppelganger sighed. "I see that we're going to have to go back to the very beginning for you to understand. Very well. We have all the time in the world."

He put his arm around Gabriel. "Close your eyes."

Gabriel hesitated, but finally gave in. When he opened them again, he was in a small shop, full of the sounds of clocks and watches ticking.

He explored the shop, staring at all the timepieces decorating the walls and tables. Then he caught sight of Sylar, standing in a corner, his arms crossed. From the look on his face, it was clear that this wasn't a place he cared for particularly.

But Gabriel liked it. It was familiar to him. "I work here," he said. "I fix watches. And I'm good at it!"

"No. Correction," Sylar said grimly. "You _worked_ here. You _fixed_ watches. And you _were_ good at it. This is the past I'm showing you."

"But—but—I was happy here!"

Sylar lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. "No you weren't! Don't you remember? The emptiness you felt? The monotony? The absolute insignificance of your life? But underneath it all, there was the knowledge that somehow, you were special. That this paltry little shop was keeping you from finding your true calling!"

Gabriel's eyes widened as he began to remember something. "I've heard something like that before. Someone…someone I loved, telling me that I was meant for greater things."

Sylar's eyes darkened. "Our mother. Yes. In her own, pathetic sort of way, she cultivated that knowledge in us."

"Yes," Gabriel agreed. He was beginning to remember bits and pieces. He could see his father, standing above him, showing him how to take apart a watch and then put it back together. He saw his mother, grabbing one of the watches off of his father's table and shaking it above her head, while his father begged her to put it down. He remembered his father's death, and his promise to himself that he'd continue the family business. He saw the years flash by him, day after day of people bringing in watches, him fixing them, then returning them and collecting his fee. Again and again and again. And then, he remembered that day…

Sylar smiled, as if he read this mind. Then again, if Sylar was him, that made sense. "You remember that day when it all changed for us?" He walked behind Gabriel, his lips just inches from his ear. "Would you like to see it again?" he whispered.

The next thing Gabriel knew, he was sitting at his work bench, fixing a Seiko. A man walked in. He was dark, probably Indian, with a grey and white beard. He smiled. "Gabriel Gray?"

Gabriel looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Chandra Suresh. I'm a geneticist, and I'm working on a very exciting project. You might have difficulty believing this, but I believe that you were born with a…genetic enhancement, so to speak. If you'd be willing, I'd like to run some tests on you."

"Yes," Gabriel said, and stood up. He was back in the forest with Sylar.

"Chandra Suresh believed that I had a power! And he ran tests on me, and--" then he stopped.

"And?" Sylar prodded.

"And he told me that I wasn't special. He couldn't find anything that made me different from any other idiot on the planet." Gabriel was beginning to get angry.

Sylar, however, looked thrilled. "Yes! But we didn't give up just then. Do you remember what happened next?"

Gabriel turned away from Sylar and back into the depths of the forest. It came to him.

He was back in his father's shop, and someone was coming in. It was the man he'd seen earlier, the timid looking one with glasses and blond hair.

"Hello?" the man called out.

Gabriel was about to answer when Sylar appeared, seeming to take his place. "Are you Brian Davis?" he asked.

"Yes. And you are…?"

"I'm…Mr. Sylar."

Gabriel watched as Brian made a cup move a few inches across the table. He was a telekinetic!

But Brian looked afraid. "I don't want this! I want it gone! Can you help me?" he pleaded to Sylar.

Gabriel was confused. Why would this man want to get rid of such an incredible ability?

Brian turned away. Sylar was staring at his head. Curious, Gabriel got closer and looked. He could see something ticking in Brian's head. His brain! Yes! That must be it.

Then Gabriel saw, with horror, that Sylar was picking up a hammer. "You're broken, Brian," he said. "But I can fix you." He held the hammer up.

"No! Sylar! You don't have to do this!" Gabriel cried. But it was too late. The unsuspecting man was lying in a pool of his own blood.

And Gabriel found, much to his horror, that _he _was now holding the bloody hammer, _he_ was standing over the body. He turned around to find Sylar behind him, grinning.

"I am born," Sylar said, almost in wonder.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

The sound of monitors flatlined in 703 made Patty call out, "Code blue! Code blue! ICU!"

The doctor on call rushed into the room. Their John Doe's heart had stopped.

_Note: Some of the dialog from the flashbacks is probably wrong, I know. I'm going by memory for this stuff_.


	3. Chapter 3

"Epinephrine, now!" the doctor called. The nurse slapped it into his hand and he administered the drug. Hearing the grating, monotonous hum on the monitor, he knew that it had no effect.

"Get me the paddles. Lowest voltage first. Clear!" Their John Doe momentarily jumped off the table as the jolt of electricity went through his heart. Still no effect.

"Again. Clear!"

That time it worked. A weak pulse emerged, only to gain strength. The doctor wiped his brow. "Damn. That's the most action we've had all night. I hope that's all."

The team left the room. Patty stayed behind and monitored the patient's lifesigns. Before she left, she stared down at his sallow face and sighed. "What's going on in there?" she asked.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It had been dark, silent and empty for a while. But eventually, the sun came out again and he was able to see. He took in a deep breath, and found the air was cool and calm. He was back in the forest.

He turned around to find Sylar standing behind him, a determined look on his face. "We've got to hurry," he told Gabriel. "You're deteriorating in the outside world. We've got to get this done."

"Get what done?" Gabriel asked.

Sylar turned and started walking towards the rising sun. "You probably don't remember this yet, but you were struck by lightning. When you were struck, all the different parts of your mind separated from one another. Because you're special," Sylar smiled with satisfaction when he said that, "Your mind isn't made like a normal person's. You're fragmented right now. What I'm trying to do is get us back together. Once we're whole, you'll wake up in the outside world and everything will be fine."

Gabriel thought it was a good idea, but then he remembered what happened right before it all went black and silent. He had watched Sylar kill that man, and it had terrified him.

Gabriel stopped in his tracks. "You murdered Brian Davis."

Sylar turned back and looked at him as if he had said the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course. He gave us our greatest ability, the telekinesis."

"But—but didn't you feel any remorse? Any guilt?"

His double smiled. "Evidently I need to show you what happened after that…ugly little scene."

Gabriel turned and they were someplace different, an apartment. Then he spotted Chandra Suresh. He was walking up to him and smiling.

"To think I rejected you—to think I almost overlooked such a great power!" he was exclaiming. He clapped Gabriel on the back. "Can you ever forgive me? Will you—will you still help me?"

Gabriel's heart leapt. Not only did he have this great power, but this doctor was now considering him to be his vital tool! Oh, and they were going to find more people with powers—more that were probably just like Brian Davis: sniveling, cowardly fools who didn't deserve such abilities in the first place. Just think what he'd be able to do once he got those new powers!

He could hear Sylar's voice in his ear. "Yes! Remember that giddiness, that overwhelming joy we felt! Hold on to that!"

His joy was only compounded when he began spending more time with Chandra Suresh. The days they spent together flashed before his eyes. Chandra was the father Gabriel wished he'd had: intelligent, accomplished, ambitious. And he was so open and honest! He told him about his marriage to Chitra; how she would rub his feet on evenings when he was tired, how she made the best mango chutney and how he'd personally take Gabriel to India someday so he could try it. He told him about his secret pain from losing Shanti, his first born, his little girl. How he and Chitra had Mohinder, who was supposed to save Shanti's life but was born too late. Mohinder had a good heart, Chandra told him. But he was fragile, and he wasn't able to handle the darkness of the world. And although Chandra never actually said it, Gabriel felt like he was the son the Indian doctor never had.

His heart was swelling with joy and tenderness. He cared about Chandra Suresh deeply.

"No!" Sylar hissed. "Stop thinking about Chandra. Focus on your mission, your mission!"

But it was too late. Even filled with joy and love, Gabriel realized something was wrong. He put his hand to his ear, and found there was a telephone in it. He could hear Chandra's voice on the other end.

"This is the end, Gabriel. I want nothing more to do with you," the older man was saying.

Gabriel felt his heart drop. It was like being disowned by his own father. And he was angry. This was all Chandra's doing. In fact, he decided to tell him that. "You made me this way, Chandra," he told him. "I was nothing until you found me. You…gave me this craving, this hunger!" his voice was beginning to rise. "You can't abandon me!"

There was a pause. Gabriel felt his heart pound with hope. Perhaps Chandra would see his mistake.

Then came his voice again. "Gabriel, my only advice to you is to turn yourself in for the things you've done. If you come near me again, I'll do it for you." Then there was the sound of the dial tone.

"Arrrgghh!" Gabriel screamed, kicking the fecund dirt of the forest.

Sylar stood there calmly. "Didn't I tell you? We need to move past Chandra, to the important moments."

Gabriel wiped his eyes. "But what happened to him? What happened to Chandra?"

"He's gone, Gabriel. He served his purpose to us, and now we have to move on!" Sylar circled around him, facing him. "Look. Remember: you're lying in a coma in a hospital. Your heart already stopped beating once. You don't have much time!"

"I can't do anything until I know what happened to Chandra!" Gabriel exclaimed. "Please. Show me."

Sylar sighed. "You're weak, Gabriel. You'll be so much better once we're back together." But he did as his counterpart asked.

Sylar and Gabriel were sitting in a taxi cab together, huddled behind the front seat.

"What is this?" Gabriel whispered.

"This is the end," Sylar whispered back.

Then the door opened, and Chandra got in. Gabriel and Sylar were staring at the back of the Indian man's head.

After a while, Sylar spoke. "Funny thing about the neck. So fragile, so deceptively strong looking." He held up a piece of leather. "You wrap this around his neck, and he's dead in minutes."

Gabriel looked at him in horror. "I can't do that!"

Sylar smiled knowingly. "Yes, you can. He's betrayed you. He's thrown you away, when you needed him the most."

Sylar was right. Gabriel felt the anger, the pain well up inside of him. He now looked at the back of Chandra's head and he was enraged.

This time, Gabriel did it himself; Sylar didn't step in for him. Like a flash he wrapped the leather around Chandra's neck and pulled with all his might. Chandra gasped and struggled, but he was no match for Gabriel's rage. Just as Sylar predicted, he was dead in minutes.

As Chandra slumped forward in the seat, Gabriel gasped and shuddered at what he'd done.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The day nurse, Theresa, noticed when she came to check on the patient in 703 that a tear had dried on his cheek.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Claire opened her eyes to a few weak rays of sunlight streaming through the window above her head. She brought her arms above her head and stretched. She actually felt good this morning. She'd been living in Jeanne Anderson's basement for two weeks now, tidying up around the house, doing some gardening, decorating her room. It felt good to be doing the small things again. She'd forgotten how much pleasure there was in planting flowers, or hanging sheets to dry in the sun, or cooking a meal.

Thinking of cooking a meal brought Claire out of bed. She remembered that today and tomorrow Jeanne was in San Francisco and she had invited Zach to come over for dinner. But it wasn't quite dinner. He was coming over right after school was over, so he'd be there around three. So technically it was between the usual lunch and dinner time. They'd had a bit of fun trying to think of the right name for it. If a cross between breakfast and lunch was brunch, what would their meal be called? Linner? Dunch? Finally they decided to call it dinner, since lunchtime would be over.

Right after breakfast she went out to the gourmet market a few blocks from Jeanne's house and bought everything for dinner. She decided to wait until the very day, because she wanted everything to be fresh. She was going to make the best meal she cooked: shrimp diavolo with a fresh spinach salad and a chocolate cake for dessert. It was extravagant, she knew, but she wanted to show Zach how much she appreciated everything he'd done for her.

The first day she'd been in Jeanne's house Zach brought her a lamp for her night table, a mirror, and a TV. The latter item had really floored her, but he tried to slough it off by explaining that a friend of his that he sometimes did freelance video editing for had an extra one he was trying to get rid of. Nevertheless, Claire was grateful for all that Zach had done, and this was her way of thanking him.

After she finished marinating the shrimp and putting them in the fridge and rinsing out the spinach, she started on the marinara sauce. She'd bought the best roma tomatoes, basil and garlic the market had, and she brought out the cutting board and a paring knife and started on the tomatoes.

She hadn't thought about him for days, but then, right then and there, cutting tomatoes, he emerged. Where was he now? What was he doing? Did he ever think of her?

She hated him. He'd turned her life upside down, moving her from terror, to anxiety, to passion, to hope, to disappointment. He didn't even say goodbye. The last thing he said to her was "go find the boy." No explanation. Nothing. He just left her to take care of Corey. He didn't care how she felt. He didn't care about anything but himself. What did she expect? What else could she have possibly expected?

She was so distracted by her thoughts she hadn't realized that she had cut up all of the tomatoes, and how her fingers were in the direct path of the knife. With one thoughtless sweep of the knife, she took off the tips of her index and middle finger.

She screamed and clutched her fingers, the blood spurting from the wounds. She hadn't even had time to feel the pain when the ragged ends of flesh on her fingers began to grow and cover the gaping holes. Within a minute her fingers looked exactly the same as they had before she had cut them. She was about to take a deep breath of relief when she saw the tips of her fingers lying on the counter next to the cutting board. She screeched, then took a paper towel and tentatively picked them up and threw them in the trash.

She was shaking. But she couldn't understand why. Things like that had happened to her before. She'd fallen from great heights and broke her bones. She'd been badly burned several times. She'd been shot. She'd even had her heart pulled right out of her chest…

"Oh God," she said out loud, covering her face. How could she have forgotten that? It had been easy to do for a while. When that one copy-cat case was over, Claire and Sylar threw themselves into finding Corey Perredine. But now there was no case to solve. It was now that Claire realized how quiet it was in the house. Now, the quiet really bothered her, in a way it never had before.

Zach was right on time. At 3:01 he knocked on the door. Claire answered it with her best smile.

"Hi!" she said as brightly as she could.

"Hey," Zach said shyly, then he looked at the way Claire was dressed. She was wearing her sky blue button down shirt and navy blue slacks, the ones she wore the day she and Sylar had gone on their stakeout in Portland.

He looked down at his army green t-shirt and jeans. "Should I go home and put on a dinner jacket?"

"Ha. No," Claire said. "Come on in, dinner's almost ready."

Claire walked into the kitchen, while Zach sat at the dining room table. She loaded two plates with angel hair pasta, sauce and shrimp, and two bowls with spinach salad. When she brought them over, Zach's eyes bugged out and he exclaimed, "oh yeah, baby."

She blushed. "So how was school?"

Zach shot her an odd look while chewing his first mouthful. "You sound like my mom, Claire. School's school. Don't you remember?"

Her smiled faded. "It seems like it was a long time ago."

"You should go back. I mean, school's a bitch sometimes, I know. What with all the asshole jocks and the bitchy cheerleaders—no offense."

She shook her head. "None taken."

"But you should at least finish high school. You're not going to go anywhere if you don't."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Yeah. According to someone, the only thing I'm qualified to do is cheer high school jocks. And…solve crimes committed by freaks like me."

"Who said that?" Zach asked.

Claire froze. Sylar said that when she was bandaging his wounds. She didn't want to bring Sylar into this. They were having a nice dinner—she didn't want to have to spend the evening explaining the nearly unexplainable.

"Just, um, just someone I met in my travels," Claire said with the most casual smile she could muster. "Um…can I get you more pasta?"

Zach stared at her deeply for a few moments. Then he said, "No. Uh, no, this is enough for me."

They finished their dinner mostly in silence. Claire was afraid that as soon as he was done, Zach would make some excuse and leave. But, to her surprise and relief, he pulled a movie out of his bag.

"Whatcha got?" she asked cutely.

"_The Forbidden Zone_. The weirdest, most fucked-up movie you'll ever pee yourself laughing at."

Claire grinned. "Well, with a description like that, how can I refuse?"

They'd dug into the chocolate cake while watching the movie, just taking handfuls of it and wiping their mouths periodically. Claire burst out laughing when Rene complained of having menstrual cramps and the chicken wings grew out of Squeezit's head. Zach only grinned. He'd seen this movie a dozen times before, so some of its delicious lunacy wasn't as fresh to him. The greater entertainment came in watching Claire's face light up as she watched it, whether it was a puzzled grimace or a grin when something idiotic was said.

He wanted her to open up to him, to allow him to comfort her. But so far, she'd put up very clear and strong barriers. He knew that if he was ever going to get to her, he'd need to be patient.

After the movie was over, they ended up watching old TV shows on cable. Eventually they were sitting right next to each other, their shoulders and arms pressed together. By the time they'd realized it, it was nearly eleven and they were halfway through their third episode of _I Love Lucy_. Zach turned to Claire, slowly.

"I guess…I should be going. I need to be up early for school," he said reluctantly.

Claire nodded, trying to look nonchalant. "Yeah. Well," she quickly got off the couch and walked him to the door. "I had a great time. I'll, um, see you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

Zach opened the door and looked back at her, smiling. "Yeah. I'll swing by in the evening. I'll call first."

Then came the awkward moment. Should he just leave? Should they hug? Should they…kiss?

Finally Claire couldn't stand it anymore and she moved forward and gave him a short, awkward hug.

"Well, um," Claire said, smiling nervously. "Good night."

Zach gave her a similarly nervous smile. "Night, Claire."

She shut the door and sighed. Then she walked to the kitchen and began to clean up from their dinner. When everything was neat and clean again, she went downstairs to her room, changed into her pajamas, and got into bed.

She knew the moment she lay down she wouldn't be able to sleep. She really had had a good time that night. She felt…so at ease with Zach. It was like being at home again, before all of this mess with her powers and her parentage had begun. She'd laughed like she hadn't laughed in nearly a year. Even their awkward goodbye had felt good. She wondered if Zach felt that same sort of nervous, giddy feeling she was having.

But as she turned in bed, someone else crossed her mind. Someone insensitive, arrogant, thoughtless. But he challenged her, he saw something in her. She shut her eyes and remembered their fleeting moments together, his hands in her hair, her legs wrapped around him. She almost wondered if she had dreamt all of that; he was so far away.

But now she had a new life. With a groan, she rolled to her back again and stared at the ceiling.

_Zach's a great guy, and he cares about me,_ Claire thought_. And I'm finally home_. _So why can't I be happy?_


	4. Chapter 4

Claire hadn't slept so well that night, but she couldn't stand to stay in bed too late into the morning. She needed to do something.

There were plenty of groceries and the house was neat as a pin, so she decided to venture out. She didn't really have a lot of money, but she figured some window-shopping wouldn't hurt.

She went to her favorite mall in Odessa and wandered around aimlessly, looking at the shiny necklaces and rings in one window, trying perfume samples at another store. She was walking out of one store, in which she'd been naughty and bought a scarf, and had her head down, looking in the bag. She was so preoccupied she ran into someone.

"Oh, sorry, I--" But she didn't finish her sentence. The person she ran into was Mr. Nakamura.

She felt dread in her stomach. She had been afraid of seeing him again, even more than running into Sylar.

But he smiled cordially as if this were a casual chance meeting. "Hello, my dear. Lose something?"

She swallowed. "No, I—I don't think so."

"Hmm," the Japanese businessman said, looking around. "You seem to be missing a partner."

Claire's face darkened. "He left me."

Nakamura nodded. "Yes. Yes, I know dear. That was very irresponsible of him."

"Yes," Claire agreed. "And since I don't know where he went, I've moved on with my life."

"Have you, Claire?" Nakamura asked pointedly. "Is this really the life you want?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Look, Mr. Nakamura. I know you gave me the mustang and the money to do good where I could. I'll be glad to give you the car back, and as for money…well, I don't really have the means to do that. The point is, I failed to reform Sylar. I'm sorry if I disappointed you." She began to walk away.

"You still have a mission," Nakamura called out. Claire stopped, and turned around.

"A mission? Oh yes, right. Some great evil that is going to threaten us all. Well, let the people who have real power, people like Peter, deal with it. I can't do anything. All I can do is heal. That's not enough to save the world!"

"Claire, your role in this all is vital," Nakamura countered. "We need Sylar to succeed. Only you can change him."

"And look what a great job I did!" Claire exclaimed. "He leaves me without saying goodbye. He's probably gone back to his old ways."

Nakamura was silent for a while. Then he said gently. "He hasn't, Claire. He needs you."

Claire scoffed. "No one needs me. That's why I'm alone." She turned and started walking again.

"The world will die, Claire!" Nakamura called out.

"Good. Let it," Claire called out in reply. "We're all better off." She kept walking.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He was back in the forest, but he didn't care. He was kneeling in the dirt, his head in his hands as he sobbed. He couldn't believe it. He had killed Chandra.

Sylar was at his side, yelling at him. "Stop it! Stop your crying, you goddamn baby! I told you! Chandra had to be taken care of! He knew about you! With him gone, you were free to do what you needed to do!"

Still Gabriel continued to sob.

He felt Sylar's hand rub his back. "Listen: there was no other way. How else were you going to get all these powers?" Gently he pried Gabriel's hands away from his face and made him look at him. "Think of all the things you can do: the power to move things with just a thought! The power to create mini-blizzards! Imagine—imagine skimming _War and Peace_ just once, and knowing everything that happened in complete detail! Imagine being able to power an entire city at your will! These are all the things that are now available to you!"

"But in order to do that, I have to kill—and kill—and kill!" Gabriel retorted in a stammering voice.

"Let go of your guilt, Gabriel," Sylar said gently. "That's what's causing your pain. You don't care about these people—you don't know them! They were small, petty little creatures that mean nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Once you let go, you'll be free! And you'll be whole again—don't you want that?"

Gabriel sniffed. "Yes. I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."

Sylar eyed him cautiously. "Maybe I should take you to the memory of your next most important discovery."

They were at a bar. Gabriel felt himself stiffen up the moment they walked in. The noise, the smoke, the crowdedness—he hated places like this. The patronage didn't make him feel any better either. They were older versions of all the boys he dreaded in high school: the jocks, the gearheads, and such. He couldn't enter into company with guys like this without the feeling they were going to tear him apart.

Gabriel was unnerved, but Sylar was cool and calm, he noticed. His face twisted into a perpetual smirk, moving effortlessly amongst these men like they were flies perched on a windowsill. Gabriel admired Sylar's confidence; it was something he never had. Then again, if Sylar was telling the truth and they were the same person, then Sylar's confidence would be Gabriel's as well.

"Stop," Sylar told him. They were now in front of a pack of bikers, all of them on the border of inebriation and laughing like a pack of hyenas.

Sylar held out his hand and pointed. "That one, there," he told Gabriel, indicating one of the bikers with a husky frame and curly brown hair. "He's special."

Gabriel was unconvinced. The man looked like simple addition would be a challenge to him; how could he have any ability? "How do you know?"

"I tracked him for weeks. He's a mechanic. He takes great pleasure in getting wasted, slapping his girlfriend around, and neglecting his kid. And he has the power of cryo-kinesis."

"What?"

"He can freeze things with his touch. Create snowstorms with a thought."

"And—and he has this power? This—this—_loser_?"

Sylar nodded. "What do you think he does with this power? Keep his beers cold?"

Gabriel felt indignation begin to rise in him as the man simultaneously laughed and pushed one of his "friends" down on the ground.

"Fuck you, man. I ain't giving you nothing," he said to his victim.

"You owe me money, Dave. Don't try to deny it!" the smaller man said from the ground.

Dave laughed heartily. Some of the other members of the group laughed along. "I ain't denying it, man. I just ain't giving it to you!" The rest of the group had a good laugh as they watched the other man get up and walk out of the bar.

Dave's smile fell when he noticed Sylar staring at him. He put his beer down and walked up to him, slowly. "Now just what the hell are you staring at, little fucker?" he grabbed Sylar by the collar. "You wanna mess with me?"

Gabriel gasped, but Sylar remained cool. "You don't know what I'm capable of," he hissed to his attacker.

"Yeah, man? Well, you don't know what I can do either," with that, the hand grabbing Sylar's collar began to send icicles into his clothing. Sylar trembled from the cold. Abruptly Dave released him. "You ain't worth my time, faggot," he spat, and walked to the restroom.

As the patrons whispered to themselves and some of them laughed at the scene, Gabriel helped Sylar to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Sylar brushed himself off and rolled his head from side to side. "It's only a memory. I'm fine."

"We need to go after him," Gabriel said with conviction.

Sylar smiled in surprise. "Yes! Do you remember what happened next?"

Gabriel tried to remember. "We cornered him in the restroom."

"No, Gabriel," Sylar said with a smile. "_You_ cornered him in the restroom."

And then he was there, in that dank, damp, disgusting room. He looked around, but Sylar was not there.

But that moronic muscle-head was. Whistling some inane tune while he emptied his bladder, he finished and zipped up his pants. When he turned around, Gabriel was standing there, leaning against the far wall.

Dave narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck do you want now, freak?"

Gabriel's expression didn't change. With one deft movement of his hand, the sink came off of the wall, and in a burst of water, it smashed into the biker's head.

The big man lay crumpled on the floor, his head a bloody mess. His blood and the water from the ruptured pipe mixed together and made a flood. Gabriel trudged through the ankle-deep liquid and knelt down, looking at the cracked skull. He could see it, just as he saw it in Brian Davis: where in the brain the power came from. He laughed over the bloody corpse.

Oh, these stupid, little people! Nature was a fool, granting such power to them. But Gabriel was going to fix all of that. He was going to take those powers for himself, because only he could truly appreciate them. He would take what was his, and when he had all he needed, he'd shape the world in his own image.

And then he was back in the forest. Sylar was waiting for him, smiling.

"Well, Gabriel?" he asked expectantly.

In response, Gabriel held up his hands and closed his eyes. First it was one snowflake, then another, and soon it was snowing.

Gabriel smiled, feeling the snow on his face and hair. It was coming back to him, all of it! All the things he could do. He made himself hover above the ground, and he spun in the snow. He focused on a snowflake, and brought it into sharp focus: the shape, the texture of it. His ears picked up the sound of the flakes hitting the trees and the ground. He closed his eyes, and he was able to remember everything he had just seen, every detail, every nuance. He held up his hand like a radioactive torch, and he lit up the forest with the incredible light. Around and around he did his hovering dance. He was no longer Gabriel—he was Sylar. And he was ready to announce it to the world.

"I am Sylar! I am Sylar!" he cried. He was going to own the world. He could do anything! The forest resounded with his joyful song.

"I…am…Sylar! I…am….Sylar!" he called out.

Faster and faster he spun around the trees, savoring the effortlessness, the absolute freedom denied him for so long but now beating as strongly within him as his own heart. He whipped out his hand to create more snow, only to have it slam against the trunk of a tree and graze roughly across its spiky bark. He cried out in pain, and fell out of his hover and down to the ground.

He held his hand. It was bleeding. He gasped and looked around. Sylar was not there. But he was! Gabriel was Sylar! And…he was hurt!

"How could I be hurt?" he asked out loud. "I'm Sylar! I can do anything!"

But the cut remained on his hand. It didn't heal.

"You failed," a voice said. Sylar looked up to see the people he met in the desert earlier, his "victims," he now realized. It was Brian Davis who had spoken.

"Fail? I never fail! I'm Sylar!" he shouted.

Charlie Andrews kneeled down to where he was. "You did fail. There was one power you were never able to attain. The one you wanted most."

Sylar looked at her, wide-eyed. "When?"

Charlie stood up and helped Sylar to his feet. He felt their hands pushing him as they walked through the forest. They were at the very edge of it, and pulling back the branches, Sylar saw a school. It looked familiar to him.

They pushed him toward it. He looked back to see their faces fading with the forest. He turned back and began to walk towards the school, night already beginning to fall.

He was walking through the halls and he heard movement. Someone was trying to run from him.

The next thing he knew, he was using his power to cut open the head of a girl, a cheerleader. She had something he wanted. She was screaming. He felt someone tugging on his arm, trying to fight him. Finding this an annoyance, he pointed at her and sent her flying horizontally against the lockers.

As he killed the other girl, he realized the one he'd thrown was now standing. He turned and looked at her. The mangled flesh of her face was beginning to re-form itself. Then, it was done. She was whole again.

He gasped. He knew this girl! Not just from this memory, but from…somewhere else. She stared at him, a mixture of genuine fear and defiance.

He put his arms down, suddenly feeling weak. "Claire," he uttered, and he was back in the forest.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

As he promised, Zach came over that evening. He came up to the house and knocked, waiting for her to answer the door.

But there was no answer. He knocked again. "Claire?" When he still didn't get an answer, he looked over at the driveway. Her car was parked there, so she had to be home.

Curious, he rounded the side of the house. "Claire?" he called out again. When he got to the back of the house, he found her sitting in the porch swing.

She turned to look at him and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." He came and sat down next to her. They sat there for a while, not saying anything. It felt nice to just sit, but Zach couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable in the silence.

He was about to say something lightweight to break the quiet when she said, "Mr. Nakamura found me."

Zach looked at her. "Okay. So he wants you to go back to what you were doing before."

Claire sighed. "Yes. But it's not just that. He wants me to…track down my partner."

Zach was puzzled. "You had a partner?"

She turned to look at him. "He's the key to saving the world. It was my job to…reform him…I guess."

"What did he do?"

She chuckled bitterly. "I don't need to tell you what he did. All I have to do is tell you who it is. Sylar."

Zach actually got off of the swing and backed away in surprise. "Him? How—how the hell could you go off with him? Claire, he tried to kill you!"

"I know," Claire said calmly. "But he's the only one who can save the world, supposedly."

Zach rolled his eyes. "We're all going to be saved by a serial killer? If that's the case, I think I'd rather get blown to kingdom come."

Claire looked away. "I'm not sure if the world is worth saving."

Zach came back and sat down next to her. "Claire. You need to tell me what happened to you. I didn't want to push you, but I need to know." He pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I care about you, you know."

It had been what she had been avoiding, but she saw now that she couldn't do it any longer. Taking a deep breath, Claire told him about the places she'd been with Sylar. About Paul, the janitor who killed women by getting their names, about the copy-cat killers that captured and tortured her, and about the little boy who was kidnapped so he could find someone. When she rescued him, she learned that his father had left him and his mother had been killed by the kidnappers. She tried to weave Sylar as little as she could into the details of her stories, but it would be impossible to leave him out completely.

When she was done, Zach just sat there, staring at nothing in particular, absolutely silent. To Claire, she had kept Sylar at the edges of her story, but to Zach he had been everywhere, at every turn and corner.

But Claire didn't see this. She was confused. "Zach? Say something."

He didn't for what seemed a long time. Then slowly he turned to her and said, "You're in love with him."

She was taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"It's so clear. Don't you see it, Claire? It annoys you and frustrates you, but he's always there! If you didn't love him, you never would have gone on that trip in the first place."

Claire groaned. "And now he's left me. What difference does it make how I might feel about him?"

"Well, like you said," Zach replied, getting off of the swing, "he's supposed to save the world. Maybe you're the one to bring him to do it." He began to walk away.

Claire stood up in surprise. "Wait!" She took hold of his arm. "Zach, where are you going?"

He smiled sadly. "You need to go, Claire. As much as I'd like you to stay…I know you can't stay here."

"So…even _you_ are making me go save the world?"

Zach grinned and pinched her arm. "Come on. Let's go get you some supplies for the road."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Gabriel tried to remember who she was. That blonde haired girl with the knowing, sad smile.

"Forget her," a voice said behind him. He turned around to find Sylar standing behind him.

"Who is Claire?" Gabriel demanded.

Sylar shook his head. "She's the reason why you're here. The reason why you and I separated. You were so close, Gabriel! You were whole again! You need to forget about her and focus on what's important."

"But…she's the one I've wanted all this time," Gabriel realized.

"Yes, yes," Sylar said impatiently. "And once we're back together and out of the hospital, we'll track her down and take her healing factor."

"No," Gabriel answered absentmindedly, looking around the corners of the forest. "That's not what I meant." He closed his eyes and held up his hand, remembering.

He was still in the forest, but he wasn't alone. She was in his arms, pressed against a tree. She was moaning, and his head was buried in her neck. It was the most incredible moment of his life, even more incredible than all the things he could do with his powers. He gasped and pulled away, as the memory faded.

"I was the tiger, she was the lamb," he said softly. "I was the predator, and she was my prey. But I couldn't do it. Because the tiger fell—"

His sentence was cut short as Sylar's fist made contact with his face. "Don't say it!" Sylar growled. Gabriel fell against the tree. Before he could react, Sylar pointed his finger at Gabriel and sent him flying through the forest brush, then coming to hit against a tree.

"You moron! Being led by your penis! It's your fault we became so weak!" Sylar roared. In a second he was upon Gabriel, grabbing him by the arms and throwing him to the ground again.

Gabriel groaned. Slowly, shakily, he got back on his feet. He turned to face his alter ego, whose fists were lit up in a radioactive blaze. He swallowed, but remained firm.

"You're not going to keep her from me," Gabriel said.

Sylar laughed. Then he sent a burst of radiation Gabriel's way. He felt it penetrate his skin, burning him from the inside out. He flew through the air, screaming.

He was on the ground, his eyes shut tight because it was so bright it hurt to open them. But he could hear Sylar's snide voice in his ear. "You were wrong, Gabriel," he whispered. "Claire is nothing. When it comes down to it, there's just you and me. I am the tiger. You are the lamb. Oh, I was a fool. I thought that I needed to join with you to get out of here. But now I see that I'm so much stronger than you. I just need to push you way down deep inside, and then I'll wake up in control of this body." He wrapped his fingers around Gabriel's throat, pressing as hard as he could.

Gabriel's eyes shot open. He couldn't breathe. The light was fading, and everything was getting darker and darker. Night was falling over the forest.

"Yes," Sylar purred. "That's it. Give in, Gabriel. I make a much better you. And besides, no one's going to miss you."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ok…we've got bottles of water, we got a first aid kit—like you need it, "Armor-All"—and the most important of all: a package of Oreo's."

Claire grinned as Zach noted the items he was throwing into the shopping cart. She was really going to miss him. She just wished she was as sure about going on the road again.

She put her hands in her back pockets and sighed. "Well. I guess that's everything."

Zach began pushing the cart towards the register. "Are you leaving tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah. Probably first thing, just when the sun comes up."

Zach gave her a sad smile. "I'll come over and say goodbye before school."

Claire stopped the cart. "In case I don't get the chance to say this, I want to thank you for everything."

Zach chuckled. "I haven't done anything, except catch up with an old friend."

Claire put her arms around him quickly, holding him close, not in the awkward fashion of the night before.

"Oh you've done more than that," she said softly. "You've restored my faith."

They pulled away and Zach tweaked one of her curls. "Don't get all mushy on me, Claire. I'm just glad you're doing what you need to do." He didn't want her to see him sad. It wasn't meant to be; he accepted that.

They were about to head for the checkout, when the doors burst open and a tall man with a ski mask over his face walked in, pointing a pistol at anyone within range.

"Nobody move! Stay just where you are and you'll live through this!"

Claire and Zach stared at him, both frozen in fear.

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Patty was in her favorite room—number 703—when she noticed her John Doe's heart rate had sped up. She looked at his face—it was twisted into some sort of grimace. She was delighted. He was going to wake up soon, she was sure. She hoped she'd be there when it happened. Maybe she could get his number.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Even as he was being choked, he could hear a heart beat, and it was getting louder and faster.

Sylar heard it too. "That's the sound of the real world, Gabriel. And I'm going to see it." He got closer to Gabriel's ear. "When I find Claire, I'll make sure to give her your love."

With every ounce of strength he had, Gabriel grabbed Sylar's fingers and pried them from his throat. Before Sylar could attack again, Gabriel yelled out, "The desert! I want the desert!"

And then he was there. The sun was out in its brutal force, the winds seared him. He got up from the sand he was lying in and they were there, his victims. Timid Brian. Hostile David. Sweet Charlie. Tough Dale. Volatile Ted. Shy Zane. Intuitive Isaac. They closed in around him, but this time Gabriel didn't fight them. He allowed them to draw near, because he realized that they were the key to leaving the prison of his mind.

"Sylar is trying to take over this—this world created by my consciousness," he told them. "I can't let that happen."

They were silent for a while. Then Ted said, "Why should you, or we for that matter, care at all what happens on the outside?"

Gabriel looked at them. They were broken, empty. This was his doing. As they said before, they were irrevocably at part of him.

"As far as all of you go, I'm sure you don't want what happened to you to happen to other people. Because that's what will happen if Sylar wakes up and not me. He'll just keep killing and killing. As for me, there's a great evil coming, even worse than me. I need to be there to stop it, but I can't if Sylar is in control."

They didn't appear any more convinced.

"There's someone on the outside that needs me," he told them. "Someone…I love. I can't let Sylar get to her. I can't let her end up in this desert."

"Again," Dale asked him, "why should we care? We have no power. We can't help you."

Gabriel was crestfallen. But what could he expect? He had caused these people's suffering. And for the first time since that moment of second thought before he killed Brian Davis, he wished he could take back what he'd done.

"But you _can_ help me," Gabriel realized. "You can allow me to—to express my remorse for what I've done." He walked around the circle they'd made around him, stopping to talk to each of them directly. "I can't expect your forgiveness. The evil I've done is too great. But now, seeing all of you here, I know now that you're all a part of me. I can't escape you. I won't try.

"But I can do penance for my crimes. The world is at stake, and I can help to save it. It won't change what I've done, I know that. All I can try to do is prevent more suffering if I can."

His victims each looked at one another, hopeful, yet conflicted. At last, Isaac spoke up. "Each power that you use is a part of us. You were right about us, Gabriel: all of us lived small, trite lives, each in our own way. But if our powers help you to save the world, then your victory becomes ours."

"Then you'll help me?" Gabriel said hopefully.

Their faces were somber. "We can't help you with what you must face next," Zane said.

Gabriel was puzzled. He noticed the Victims backing away from him, breaking up the circle they had formed. Slowly he looked up. Sylar was standing a small distance away, smiling darkly.

"Time to sacrifice the lamb," he purred.

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Claire grabbed Zach by the shoulders and they got behind one of the aisles.

"Stay here," she whispered to him. She leaned out and looked at the robber, who was now demanding that the cashiers empty the contents of their registers into his bag.

She turned back to her friend. "The police will be here soon. We just need to wait this out."

"Claire," Zach said pointedly. "You can stop him."

"He's not going to hurt us as long as he gets what he wants," she argued, but then they heard yelling.

"Yo, man! Are you deaf? Open the fuckin' register!"

Cautiously, Claire walked back to the front of the store to see what had happened. At one of the last registers, the cashier, a boy not much younger than her, looked petrified. He stared at his attacker, unable to obey the command to open the register.

The man looked to another cashier. "Open the register for this dumbass!"

The middle-aged woman stammered, "I—I can't, sir. We—we all have our own c-code."

The robber groaned and turned the gun on the boy again. Claire had to act fast. Grabbing a can off of one of the displays, and praying that it would hit the target, she aimed at their assailant and threw.

Luckily (or unluckily, if she were anyone else) it hit his back and he turned around, allowing the boy to get out of the line and drop to the ground. The robber saw Claire and instantly turned the gun on her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?" he shouted, and shot her, hitting her in the shoulder. Claire stumbled backwards and hit the floor, causing screams from fellow shoppers and employees.

Stunned, but already feeling the bullet working its way out of her, Claire weakly opened her eyes to see the robber beginning to make his way for the exit. Slowly she got up, much to the shock of those who thought she was gravely injured. People stared as the bullet worked its way out of her and dropped to the ground, while her bloody wound closed itself.

While the robber was still distracted, Claire began running, and with every ounce of strength she had, tackled him to the ground.

Just then, the police burst in, their guns trained. Claire got off of the robber and backed away as they picked him up and handcuffed him. She looked around and saw the others staring at her. For someone who'd just been shot, she was in pretty good shape.

Zach ran up to her. "You better get out of here," he told her. "Before the cops start asking questions."

The front of the store was crawling with cops, so Zach and Claire ran towards the back. Heading down a hallway, they found a door that was fortunately unlocked that led to the alley behind the store.

"I think I'm parked down this way. Boy I'm glad we parked at the neighboring lot and not the one in front!" Claire said.

"Are you…ok? I mean, you were shot," Zach said awkwardly.

Claire smirked. "You ask me. You're the one who videotaped me getting hit by a car."

Zach laughed shortly. "You're right. But you need to go."

"Right," Claire stood there, feeling like she should say something.

He relieved her of the discomfort of the situation. "You already hugged me," Zach said. "Just…go find him so you can save us all."

She smiled and touched his cheek. "Goodbye." She ran off to get the car before the police found her.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Gabriel's eyes were burning from the desert heat, but there was no time to worry about that. The heart beat was growing louder, and he had to get out of there.

Sylar was having the same idea. He was sure he could defeat Gabriel, but he wondered how he would feel after he awoke in the real world. After all, he was a facet of a human being's consciousness. But he would rather risk psychic collapse than remain an urgent voice in the back of the mind of a nothing.

They moved in a circle, watching each other, anticipating each other's attack, like wild dogs. They could sense the presences of the Victims, standing stoically, waiting for the final judgment. Their fate was already decided, but the fate of all of those on the outside—who were like them—hung in the balance.

The stared each other down, identical pairs of eyes burning into identical faces. Then, without warning, Sylar stuck out his hand and shot a bolt of radioactive light toward his enemy. The bolt was on target and struck Gabriel in the chest. It was so fast he didn't even have time to scream.

"Ohhh," he groaned, then shrieked when he saw the smoke pouring from his chest. He couldn't move. He was sure he was going to die.

He could hear Sylar chuckling. "You know, Gabriel, I'm really doing you a favor. You never could control yourself when it came to killing. Ha, you were even going to kill that girl that reminded you of your precious little Claire."

"That's—that's not true! I wanted to help her!" Gabriel managed to gasp.

With that, Sylar used his power to raise Gabriel off the ground, then made a clenching motion with his hand to clamp down on his throat. "Don't lie, especially to me! Maybe you were…attracted to her because of her resemblance to that luscious little blonde, but in the end, you were going to slice her head open and take out the sweet treat inside."

Gabriel gurgled as the air was sucked out of his lungs. Then, all of a sudden, he could breathe again, but he was thrown to the ground hard. If this were the real world, his back would have been broken.

"Oh, I'm not letting you off that easily," Sylar sneered. He walked up to his double and planted his foot over his neck, so he couldn't even move his head. "I want you to suffer for what you've done to me."

"What have I done to you?" Gabriel whispered.

"You forgot me!" Sylar snapped. "You pushed me all the way to the darkest part of your mind, into the forest. I screamed and screamed, and soon, I couldn't even hear myself." Now he was right in Gabriel's face. "All the things I gave you: your confidence, your courage, your strength…but you couldn't stand to give me credit for it. You just…pretend that none of this ever happened!"

"I refuse to believe all my strength comes from you!" Gabriel cried. With that, he grabbed hold of the foot Sylar had on his neck and threw him off. He leapt to his feet and held out his hands.

"Snow," he said softly. And then, there it was. Soft, white flakes, swirling in the air, that had gone from dry and dusty to frosty.

Sylar laughed. "You think snow is going to stop me?" He lunged forward, and just then, Gabriel shot a burst of cold at his feet, keeping it concentrated, then moving slowly upward until Sylar's entire body up to his neck was encased in walls of ice.

"Arggh! I won't be left here with those…insects!" Sylar shouted, indicating the Victims who were now huddled together in the snow.

"They're a part of me, just like they're a part of you," Gabriel said. The heart beat had now reached its highest decibel. Everyone turned to see the desert beginning to disintegrate. They were returning to consciousness.

Gabriel turned to the Victims. "I'm sorry," he told them.

They were now holding hands and looking at him in their somber stance.

"We know. We will always be here with you, Gabriel," Charlie said.

Sylar screamed and with that, radioactive light emanated from his body. He melted the layers of ice confining him.

He ran towards Gabriel, armed with everything he had. "I won't be deprived of life!" he cried.

But Gabriel held out his arms and caught Sylar in his embrace. He held him tightly. Sylar looked at him wide-eyed. He couldn't move. Gabriel was stronger.

"I finally see it now," Gabriel whispered to his double. "I got here because I was trying to fight you. You were right all along. We need to join together. You are a part of me too."

"No!!" Sylar screamed, but it was no use. Gabriel was now in power.

It all dissolved around them. Gabriel could feel it pulling at him, tearing him apart. He closed his eyes and held on with all he had.

He eyes flew open.

He gasped.

He blinked, then realized that the beeping he was hearing were the monitors he was hooked up to. Slowly he sat up, ran his hands over his face. He was whole. He took a breath, and realized that this was the air of the real world he was inhaling.

He looked around. He was in a hospital room, and he realized he couldn't stay there. He threw back the covers with his mind, jumped out of bed, and moved to the window. He figured out how to open it, feeling the cold night air hit him. It was lovely. He jumped, even though he was up several stories, and right before he hit the ground, his telekinesis allowed him to hover a few inches. Slowly he lowered himself and ran off into the night.

This all happened just five minutes before Patty came in at her usual time to check on her favorite patient. She arrived to find an empty bed.

Slowly she walked to the nurses station and leaned against the desk. Susan looked at her sympathetically.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked.

"How did you know?" Patty demanded, surprised.

Susan nodded. "It's for the best, honey. Believe me."

After Patty trudged away despondently, Susan picked up the office phone and dialed.

"Yes?" a woman's voice answered.

"He's awake, Mrs. Petrelli."

There was a long pause. "I see," Angela replied. "Thank you, Susan. You've been most helpful."

"Is there—is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?"

There was a audible exhale on the other end. "No. No, that's all I require. He's going to go after my granddaughter. Not that I'm pleased by that, but…for once, I've decided not to meddle."

"Yes, Mrs. Petrelli."

She sighed again. "Yes, thank you, Susan. Good night." She hung up.

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In spite of Claire's directions that he would not steal any longer, he felt he had no choice. He couldn't run around in a hospital gown. After grabbing a pair of trousers and a t-shirt from a small men's clothing store, he slipped back onto the street.

He was walking again on the rooftops, trying to figure out how to find Claire. It was an apartment building, and there were several of the homes that had the televisions on. In the blaring of the programs, his ears picked up something that caught his attention.

"_And in Odessa, Texas, shoppers of a local drug store are buzzing about a young girl who saved them from a robbery. Supposedly she took a bullet in her shoulder but was back on her feet within seconds."_

Claire.

He stole one other thing that night, but he justified it to himself that it was necessary to get to her. Shifting the Nissan Versa he found in a nearby parking garage into drive, he headed west.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

She really didn't know where she was going, but she figured the best thing to do would be to track down Molly Walker and have her locate Sylar for her. She was pretty sure she lived in Flushing with Mohinder, so that was the plan…for the time being.

As she drove that night, sleep pulling at the corners of her eyes but fighting it all the way, she could only hope that when she did find Sylar, he'd actually be happy to be found.

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Tom was exhausted. He didn't think that with all his years of doing this, something like fatigue would bother him. But he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He longed to go home. Tina would have dinner ready for him, he'd stretch out in the chaise lounge…

Then his eyes flew open and realized he was about to hit a car in front of him. He blew the horn and tried to swerve to avoid hitting it. He pulled the wheel so hard he started to feel the truck tip. Further and further down it was falling, and before he knew it, he was horizontal. He could hear the screaming of tires, the collective melody of horns as they blared from the disruption on the highway. There were crashes all around him as drivers ran into one another trying to avoid hitting him.

Lying there, bones broken, all Tom could think was, _I'm gonna get fired. _

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

She was into her third day of traveling, and was now crossing into Tennessee. She just hoped that Mohinder hadn't taken Molly somewhere else; by her estimates, it was going to take her another three to four days to get to New York.

She suddenly had to hit her brakes when she saw the car in front of her just sitting there, parked. She was about to curse out the driver when she realized that all the cars in every lane were parked. Some of them were standing outside of their cars and staring. Curious, she got out of her car and walked over to a fellow driver, who had one foot in his Jetta and the other on the road.

"What's going on?" she asked.

He turned to her. "There's been a real nasty accident a couple miles up. A hazmat truck tipped over, I think. There's a bunch to people stuck in there because they crashed into one another."

Thanking him for the information, Claire gave one look to her car, still parked, and then began to run towards the accident.

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He was on route 40, crossing into Tennessee. He estimated that he'd probably be in Texas the next day, and it would just be a matter of tracking Claire down.

He slowed down when he noticed an extensive accident on the other side of the highway. A truck had tipped over, and from the looks of it, it wasn't carrying organically friendly materials inside.

He was torn. He wanted to keep going (even though it wasn't going to be a quick ride; naturally everyone had to stop and stare), but at the same time, he knew he could help.

Finally, pulling the car off to the shoulder, he charged through the thicket separating the sides of the highway.

With his advanced hearing he knew there were people that were trapped in their cars that were hurt. Trying to avoid the police and other rescue officials, he made his way to the cars that were still melded together from the impact.

Then a sight stopped him in his tracks. Blonde hair, slender frame, a worried look.

Claire.


	6. Chapter 6

Claire was trying to get a driver out of a car that had a fire going under its hood. Being pinned against the guardrail and flanked by two other cars, the driver was trapped. Gabriel saw she had a crowbar in her hand, and was now crawling over the front of the car to get to the driver, heedless of the fire that was burning her.

"Get down to the floor!" he heard her tell the driver, a frightened woman only made more frightened by the fact that her rescuer was getting burned and didn't seem to mind. However, the woman did as she was told and Claire broke the glass on the windshield, enough so that a person could crawl out.

He got close enough, and stretched out his hand, allowing bursts of ice to put out the fire going in the front of the car. Claire turned back and looked at him, a mix of surprise, joy, and perhaps a little hurt on her face.

She turned back to the woman and pulled her through the opening in the windshield, pushing her towards Gabriel. He got her off of the car and she began running.

Claire turned to him now, the burns on her body fading. "Fancy meeting you here, Sylar," she told him stiffly.

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "It's Gabriel," he corrected.

She looked at him in surprise, but shook it off and looked around. "It's a big mess," she told him. "I don't think they've even been able to get to the driver of the truck."

Sylar looked in the direction of the truck, and with his vision was able to see through the piles of cars. "He's in there," he said. "But there's a flood of waste in the way. Not to mention these cars."

"I can't get there on foot, and you can't walk through that stuff," Claire said. They were quiet for a while, then Claire said, "Throw me."

"What?"

"Throw me!" she told him. "Use your telekinesis, and throw me to the truck!"

Gabriel agreed. He backed away from her slightly, then using a hand, he elevated her. Claire felt herself going higher and higher, then, with a finger, Gabriel pointed her in the direction of the truck, and off she flew.

She landed on her feet in a puddle of the waste. She felt it burning through her shoes, and her socks, but she couldn't pay attention to that. She stalked through the puddle, to the front of the truck, where the driver lay injured.

Luckily, she had brought her crowbar, so she climbed to the top of the cabin, where the door was now on the top, and used it to break the latch off of the passenger side door. Using all of her strength to pull off the door, she threw it to the side and looked into the cabin, where the driver was hurt, but alive, coughing raggedly.

She looked in at him. "Give me your hand!" she cried.

He looked stricken, but he yelled out, "My leg… and I think my ribs! They're broken!"

"You've got to crawl out! Come on, I'll help you!"

Using his arms for leverage, John painfully pulled himself out of the seat and climbed up to the now broken passenger side door, throwing his hand to Claire. She began to pull with all of her might, and he used what little strength he had left to help her. When his upper body was out of the truck, she grabbed hold of his belt and used it to pull him all the way out.

Gently she turned him over so he was now laying on the flat surface of what had been the side of the truck. He clutched his side. Claire winced when she saw his leg, now slightly turned at an unnatural angle.

Trying to keep him calm, she smiled down at him. "You'll be ok. Have you got someone at home?"

He coughed and panted, but smiled back. "Yeah. My wife, Tina."

"You'll see her soon, I promise," she said gently. Just then, she felt a rush of air, and the loud droning of a powerful engine. She looked up to see a helicopter, hovering over the truck.

She looked back at him. "I've got to go now. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

He looked at her wide-eyed. "Where the hell are you gonna go? There's acid on the ground!"

But she was already walking towards the edge of the truck, ready to jump. "Yeah I know. I already burned my shoes off getting here. It was nice meeting you!" And with that, she leapt off.

Tom lay back on the truck. He couldn't believe it. He had to still be asleep.

Gabriel remained where he was, trying to mentally move the cars smashed together as discreetly as he could. He heard Claire running up to him and he turned.

She smiled. "I got the driver. He's going to be fine."

He smiled back. "Good. We need to get out of here."

She cocked a brow. "_We_?"

"Yeah. _We_," he answered sheepishly.

They made it back to the mustang, Claire limping slightly from her nearly destroyed shoes. Finally she said "screw it" and removed the tattered scraps of suede and rubber from her feet. Fortunately, traffic hadn't moved at all, so they were able to get back in the car with little ado.

They sat there for nearly an hour, in silence, waiting for the accident to be cleared. Neither one of them knew exactly what to say. Finally Claire, looking soberly out of the passenger window, asked the first question that had come to her mind when she realized he wasn't coming back to meet her after the showdown in Louisiana.

"Why did you leave me?"

Gabriel turned to look at her. "Guilt," he said simply.

Claire could help but scoff. "Since when has guilt been a problem for you?"

He sighed. He couldn't argue with that. "Claire, I haven't cared for someone in a long time. And when…the one I cared for, more than anything else in the world, got hurt because of me, I couldn't help but feel that—that she'd be better off without me."

She felt a blush on her cheek, but she cleared her throat and asked, "So where have you been?"

"Lying in a coma in a hospital in Kentucky," he answered simply.

She gave a light gasp. "What?"

"It's the best thing that could have happened to me," he said with a smile.

Claire rolled her eyes. "It serves you right," she quipped. "And so you woke up with a new outlook on life, and decided to change your name?"

"No," he said. "Gabriel is my real name."

"So Sylar doesn't exist anymore?"

The traffic began to move again and he started driving. "I've done terrible things, Claire," he told her. "That's always going to be with me. But if I help to save the world, I can live with myself."

She felt a smile spreading across her face, but she turned away. After a while she asked, "So where are we going?"

He shook his head. "You tell me. You make the decisions, Chief."

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

They ended up driving to the closest hotel off of 40. Since Gabriel had nothing on him but the clothes on his back, he could only stand by as Claire asked for a room and paid for it.

She had rented a room with double beds. Wordlessly she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. She jumped into the shower, not having showered since the day before. She looked down at her feet, knowing that they had healed from walking in the hazmats, but she found that she still needed to scrub off the bits of her socks and shoes that had melted to her skin.

"Ugh, gross," she said to herself. It would take her a while to get it off her of skin, but she was grateful for the extra time it took. She wasn't ready to face Sylar—Gabriel. She was still angry at him. She couldn't help it. He'd left her when she was at her most vulnerable. How could she trust him?

When she was done, she changed into a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts and left the bathroom. But she didn't see him anywhere in the room. She sighed. He'd left her again. Or maybe she just imagined all of it. She had been rather tired, after all. Maybe her mind had started playing tricks on her.

Claire laughed bitterly to herself. Of course she was alone; what else could she be? Walking to her bag she had thrown on the bed, she began unpacking her things.

But before she could take the first thing out of her bag, she felt two strong arms enfold her from behind, a bearded cheek rub against hers. She felt his warm breath against her ear, and she heard him say softly, "Oh Chief, I'm so sorry."

She couldn't help it; a sob escaped her lips. She felt tears beginning to well in her eyes. Gently he took her face in his hand, and brought her head back so that he could kiss her. She kept her eyes open while they kissed. She wanted to make sure that he really was there, with her.

He turned her around, and pulled her to him, picking her up so her chest lay right against his. She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck and she looked at him, carefully. He had changed; his skin seemed paler, his hair slightly longer. A beard had grown in almost completely. But the greatest change was in the eyes. They were still dark, piercing, and intense. They still made her melt inside, but they were different. Gone was the distance, the haughtiness. There was passion; there was love.

"Oh," she breathed, and she kissed him. He really was here; he really was hers. She felt the hurt and the anger begin to fade away as he held her in his arms. She couldn't even cry; she felt such an abounding joy that she couldn't bring herself to mourn.

He returned her kisses with a fierce ardency. He brought of his hands to her bottom, gently pushing her so that she brought her legs to wrap around his waist. Still kissing, he walked them over to one of the beds and laid her down, her arms and legs still encompassing him in their soft warmth.

Gabriel looked down at Claire, cupping her angelic face in his hands. She was his treasure, his jewel. Before their lovemaking had been mindless; animalistic. But not this time. Now, they were going to go slowly, gently. He was going to savor her.

He moved off of her and removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He came back down to her again, and Claire enjoyed the feel of his bare skin. One hand she ran through the dark thickness of his chest hair, the other she used to caress his back. They kissed each other hungrily, their tongues dueling, then Gabriel broke off the kiss and began to kiss down to her neck, remembering the fragrant softness of it.

Claire was enjoying this, but she couldn't help but want more…intensity. So she moved the hand that had been caressing his chest to the back of his neck, while the other hand she used to massage and knead his back. His soft moans told her he liked it. Then, experimentally, she raked her nails down his back.

Gabriel hissed; that had driven him to a new wildness. And immediately, in reaction, he stopped kissing her neck and actually bit the tender flesh, not breaking the skin but putting enough pressure that it elicited a gasp, then a moan from her. His erection was already straining against the fabric of his pants, aching to find release, but he wouldn't permit any rash actions. He wanted slow, exquisite fulfillment.

He broke away from her neck, and looked at her, then at the next target of his attentions. Carefully he cupped one of her full breasts and squeezed. Claire cried out and arched herself into his hold further, reveling in the feel of his hands. She desperately wanted more attention. She wanted to take off her shirt, but a good amount of his weight was on her, restricting her movements.

But Claire's cries and writhing told Gabriel what she wanted; what he wanted too, actually. So gently he brought her arms above her head, and pulled the lightweight cotton shirt off of her. Once it was off, he didn't want to have to lean over her to get it off the bed, so mentally he made if fly off of the bed and onto the floor. He couldn't help but sigh in awe as he looked at her full globes. He couldn't wait to take their soft fullness into his mouth

Claire giggled, then moaned as she realized that he was sucking on her nipple, licking the tip, then holding it between his lips. He hadn't done this before, and she wasn't prepared for how wonderful it would feel. She shut her eyes and held his head against her breasts, then cried out in surprise and pleasure when he actually brought his arms under and around her, pulling her closer to his needy mouth, almost in greedy possession.

Gabriel couldn't get enough. The smoothness of her skin, the sweet scent of her flesh. To think he almost missed all of this…but this wasn't the time to ponder what could have been. He could hear her rising moans, and he knew that she was aching for more, but he wanted to take his time.

Slowly he kissed his way down from her breasts, across the smooth flat plane of her belly, to the top of her shorts. He pulled these off, little by little, off of her legs. He tried to take her panties as well, but she pulled away from him and curled up at the head of the bed.

"No fair," she said teasingly. "You have more clothing on than me."

He chuckled and complied, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. Claire was already calculating in her mind that as soon as they were gone, she'd force him onto his back and take control. But Gabriel had other ideas. He was on top of her again, kissing her. And while he had her distracted, he began to tug on her panties, actually working his hands under the material to make a speedy removal.

He pulled away from her and took them off completely. Claire began to whine in protest, until she realized what he was about to do…

Gabriel pulled her legs apart and buried his face there, finding the sensitive bud of her seat of pleasure and lavishing attention on it with his tongue.

She fell backward and moaned. "Ohhh God. Ohhh, that feels good," she whispered.

She was so wet already, and she tasted like honey to him. He lapped up her juices, not caring that they were spilling out of his mouth. The more he lapped, the more there was. He could hear her crying, shaking. He continued teasing her until he looked at her, with tears in her eyes, and she said breathlessly, "Oh God, Gabriel, please. I want you, all of you."

That did it. He stood up and removed his last article of clothing, and he was upon her again. He kissed her gently, and Claire could taste herself on his lips. But, much to her surprise, she didn't mind. In fact, it was rather arousing.

He positioned herself between her thighs, and she took a deep breath. She—both of them—had waited for this moment for a long time.

Finding her soft pink opening, Gabriel placed his shaft there and allowed himself to fill her, gasping at the entry. Oh, she was wonderful. Hot and wet and tight. She shuddered as he had entered her, and he could feel her body as the tremor went through her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, looking up at him with love and complete trust in her eyes. "Please," she whispered.

He moved slowly at first, finding a rhythm. Claire brought her legs up and around the small of his back, hooking her ankles together. She was glad that he was being gentle, but she wanted more, she needed more. She began to move with him, thrusting her pelvis against his in frantic movements.

"Harder," she said in a soft cry. "Oh God, harder."

With that, any notions of soft, slow, gentle sex left Gabriel's mind. Grasping her buttocks, he actually pulled her off of the bed and rocked backward so that he was sitting up and she was astride his lap. He thrust into her, hard and fast, making his movements deeper. She threw her head back in ecstasy and he bit into her neck again, this time hard enough to break the skin. She moved her hips against his, grinding into him with a roughness that would seem unnatural in her, but that Gabriel was well acquainted with.

He was stroking her back roughly, digging his fingers into her supple flesh and would have left marks if not for her healing factor. He was pounding her, while whispering all manner of filthy things in her ear that couldn't help but giggle at. She had no idea that he could talk so dirty.

With the head of his phallus striking her in just the right spot over and over again, Claire could feel an orgasm building in her. That strange, burning, almost itchy feeling she'd felt only twice before was upon her, and she wanted the culmination to last as long as it could. Grabbing his hair, she looked into his eyes. "You're making me…oh God…." she moaned, as she rode out the climax.

He wasn't going to be too far behind her. He laid his head in her neck, and whispered into her ear, "Oh Claire, oh honey, ohhhh…." and he pressed himself a little deeper into her as he came.

They were sweaty, spent, and utterly satisfied in a way they didn't think possible. Gently Gabriel moved Claire off of his shaft and lay down, pulling her against him. They lay on their sides, kissing. Claire brought her thigh to rest against his, in warm invitation, and was pleased when he got the hint and moved his leg to rest between hers.

Gabriel waited until he completely caught his breath, then kissed her again. "I love you," he told her.

She smiled that sweet smile of hers, but this time, there was no sadness in it. "I love you too," she replied.

It was then that she realized that this was the right time for them to tell each other; all of the things that happened to them, good and bad, had to happen in order for them to have this moment together.

They lay quietly for a long time. Gabriel was awake, but he wondered if Claire had fallen asleep.

But then he heard her say, "So…when you were that coma, did you…dream?"

He sighed and kissed her head. "Not exactly. I sort of…found myself. I put all the parts of myself back together."

She looked him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

So he explained it to her. He told her that he realized that while he wasn't Sylar anymore, Sylar would always be a part of him, as would the people he killed.

"I understand," she told him. "But there's still one thing I'd like to know."

"What's that?"

"What's your last name?"

He chuckled. "Maybe I should tell you about myself."

They spent the rest of the day and most of the night talking, still wrapped in each other's arms. Gabriel told Claire about his father, John. Claire told Gabriel about her two fathers: Noah, the man she'd known all her life, who raised her, and Nathan, the man who'd given her life but that she barely knew. He told her about Ocean City, a vacation spot that his family had gone to every year because his aunt and uncle had a summer home there. She told him about her mother's dog shows and Mr. Muggles.

He told her the darker things: about Chandra and his feeling that he was betrayed, about Brian Davis. About his mother and his own insecurities. He laid himself bare, fearing in the back of his mind that she would fear and revile what he'd done. But she lay there, stroking his face gently, showing her fear but also her strivings to understand. He knew then that he'd underestimated her; that he'd run away thinking that he was protecting her, when in reality he was only denying himself a love that was pure and honest and perfect.

Finally the sun came up, and they realized that they'd been in bed all this time. Gabriel knew Claire was probably hungry, so he suggested they find a diner and get some breakfast.

As they were digging into their food, identical orders of pancakes and sausage, Claire talked about her time in Odessa. "I really was thinking of staying there," she told him. "But it was Zach who convinced me to leave and find you." She added slyly, "Although I'm sure he wanted me to stay," hoping that it would make Gabriel jealous.

She was successful. "Who is this Zach?" he demanded. "An ex-boyfriend or something?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "He's a very good friend, that's all. Maybe one time something could have happened…but not now." She smiled and took his hand. "My heart belongs to someone else."

His wicked smirk returned momentarily. "Good," he said. "I'd hate to have to resort to my old ways because some guy didn't know his place."

"Gabriel!"

He laughed. "Just kidding."

They were going to check out that afternoon, and drive off to their next adventure, wherever that might be. Claire was packing up her things when she looked over at Gabriel, who was folding up clothes he bought while they were out. She wanted him again, but she knew they had work to do.

She looked out the window, and noticed dark clouds were forming. The wind was picking up.

She smiled and pushed back the curtain, then walked over to her lover. "Hey," she asked. "Do you like to travel in bad weather?"

"No," he replied casually. "If I can, I try to avoid it."

Gently she took the clothes he was wearing from his arms and put them down on the bed. "What if a storm was coming? Wouldn't you feel safer if we waited it out?"

"Probably," he said, putting his arms around her.

"And if we did, I'm sure we'd find a way to occupy ourselves."

Just then, the sound of thunder could be heard. Gabriel smirked and looked down at Claire, her eyes filled with hope and lust.

"Good point, Chief. Come here."


End file.
